


The Fifth Year

by Hugglez4eva (LostTribe)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Hogwarts, Import from Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5010409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostTribe/pseuds/Hugglez4eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons is excelling in every subject at Hogwarts - except for one. She’s forced to seek out the only student her year who can help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fifth Year

**Author's Note:**

> This was my “FitzSimmons More Than 5k Exchange” Gift for fcggynelsun on Tumblr. It's rather fluffy, and is a little more condensed than I meant it to be, because I ran out of time. 
> 
> Also: For extra fun, since Hogwarts is suppose to be for UK students only, imagine all of Skye’s lines in her horrible Scottish accent.

Things were different this year for Jemma Simmons. Fortunately, she had anticipated most the changes. Being in her fifth year, she had predicted that the coursework would get more difficult, as well as contain some review of the previous years in preparation for her O.W.L.s. Consequently, she had already been reviewing over the summer before arriving at Hogwarts. (She was still grateful for review in class, since she wasn’t allowed to practice magic outside of school, and thus only read about everything she had already learned.) It seemed that currently her preparation was proving successful as she excelled in most of her classes, just as she had done in years before.

The first unanticipated difference was that of the Triwizard Tournament. The arrival of the other schools was exciting and intriguing. As soon as she learned why they were there, she began studying up on the tournament, and, very soon after that, was grateful she was only 15, so that no one could pressure her into putting her name into the Goblet of Fire.

The second difference was much more troubling to Jemma. While in years past, she found herself as the brightest in her year. There were some who were close to her equal, but none that outmatched her. This continued in most of her classes (even Snape had to give her credit for the quality of her potions), one class left her troubled: Transfiguration. It had always been one of the more challenging classes for her, but not like it was this year. The Vanishing Spell they were learning proved to be her match, and she found that her snail hadn’t vanished last among all of her classmates. She worried that the next assignment would be beyond her skill.

“I just don’t know what to do,” she said with an exasperated sigh. The halls around her were flooded with students moving from one class to another, their voices drowning each other out until they all became a general noise. Jemma did her best to speak over them so that her two companions, both girls of her year, could hear her. “I mean, at this rate I can’t even say for sure that I’ll achieve an Exceeds Expectations.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll get an Exceeds Expectations,” said Skye, the friend farthest from Jemma, confirming that she had spoken loud enough. “But I also know you need your Outstanding.”

“Exactly!” Jemma responded. “I just don’t see how that could happen at this point.”

She looked to her friends for advice. The closer friend, Cho Chang, was staring at the ground ahead of her with furrowed brow. The thoughts could almost be seen flying past her as she scanned with her eyes. “It is a difficult spell,” she conceded, her thoughts clearly still distant.

“It is, definitely,” Skye said. Before she could continue, Jemma, predicting her friend’s next sentence, said, “but…?”

“But there’s an obvious solution to this.” Skye gave a meaningful look, as if Jemma knew what she was talking about. After a beat of receiving a blank expression, Skye continued: “Get some help from someone who knows it, like a tutor.”

Jemma’s face lit up, “that’s a great idea! I wonder which sixth year I should ask…”

There was a slight grimace on Skye’s face as Jemma spoke, and she could see it from the corner of her eye. Jemma turned to her head to her friend, her ponytail swinging behind her. “That’s not what you meant?”

“Not exactly…”

“Who, then? The only person I can think of from this year-”

“Is crazy good at Transfiguration. How fast did his snail vanish?”

“Well, he did seem to excel at the spell rather quickly, but-”

“So he could easily teach you.”

“Skye has a pretty good point,” Cho finally interjected. She seemed like she was trying to pull herself back to the conversation, her mind constantly straying.

“Are you alright, Cho?” Jemma said.

“Hmm?” Cho responded, finally focusing in on her friends. “Oh, yes. It’s just Cedric.”

“Has something happened between you two?” She rested a hand on Cho’s arm as an attempt at comfort.

“Oh it’s not that,” she reassured. “I’m just nervous for him in this tournament, since I read that people have died in years before.”

“That’s true, but I’m sure Cedric is more that capable of handling the tasks. He’s a great wizard.” Jemma smiled confidently, believing her words fully. Though this seemed to ease Cho’s mind a bit, the thought still visibly distracted her.

“Yeah, Cedric’s got this in the bag,” added Skye. “But if Jemma here’s going to get her Outstanding in the bag, she’s gonna need some help.”

“It’s not going to work.”

“Why?”

“Because he hates me!”

A quick laugh escaped from Skye. “What makes you think that?”

“He’s always trying to outdo me - it’s actually pretty funny, because last year, in Charms class, when we were learning the Summoning Charm, he and I both tried it on-”

“Simmons,” Skye interrupted once more, “you were talking about why he hates you?”

“Right. Well, he never talks to me. I complimented him once on his Shrinking Solution, and he just stared at me. He didn’t say a word.”

Skye gave her a look that she didn’t understand. Sometimes it was hard for Jemma to interpret her expressions. Finally, she sighed and said, “just ask him, Simmons. Look - there he is right now.”

Sure enough, he was walking down the hallway towards them, the scarlet and gold stripes on his tie appearing more vivid in the sunlight streaming through the large windows on the wall. He hadn’t noticed their trio yet, for he was deep in conversation with a fellow Gryffindor, a large, dark-skinned boy. Their conversation was just a part of the surrounding murmur, but it seemed to be about something serious from their animated head nods and hand motions.

There were a few things that came to Jemma’s mind whenever she thought of Leopold Fitz, including in this moment.

The first was that he had tried to bring a monkey to school in their first year. It was a small capuchin monkey that seemed to have been trained well, for it made little noise. Most of the other students liked it, and any tricks he had it perform were instant hits. His flaw in the matter was that he brought it with him to class. As soon as McGonagall had seen it, an owl was sent to his parents, and the monkey was gone the following day.

The second thing, which had soon followed the monkey incident in their first year, was that Jemma knew was that he was one of the brightest in their class. While she loved to study things thoroughly, break them into their separate elements and study each to understand it fully, he seemed to process it naturally. He didn’t always need to study as she did. Jemma found this both fascinating and frustrating, which kept him constantly on her radar. She made sure it also meant that she was on his. When teachers started praising her more than him, she was certain he noticed. Thus, the competition had begun, turning quickly into feud.

It should be clear now why Jemma hesitated at Skye’s suggestion.

Simmons noticed that her own walking had slowed, and Cho and Skye, slightly ahead of her, had begun to mirror it. Skye, looking at Jemma, raised her eyebrows and motioned in his direction with her head. Jemma grimaced in turn.

“I don’t know,” she said. Then, after a pause, “I think I’ll just find a sixth year.”

Jemma rotated on her heels to begin walking in the opposite direction. Fingers gently gripped her arm and she instantly obeyed their control, halting her before she had taken even a full step. Skye moved in front of her, being the owner of the hand, and stared at her sternly.

“Look,” she said, “you can either go searching for a sixth year who got an Outstanding in Transfiguration, see if they’re awesome at a Vanishing Spell.” She twirled Jemma back around (again on her heels), and continued, “or, you can get help from someone you already know is great at it.”

She watched him grow closer in her vision and let doubts flood the front of her mind once more. “But what if-“

“What’s the worst that could happen? He’ll say no, and you’ll go ahead and try to find a sixth year.”

Jemma’s mind began to list several worst-case yet realistic scenarios, but, knowing none of them would be considered good enough to Skye, sighed in secession. “You’re right,” she said, finally trying to build herself up to the idea. “What’s the harm?”

“Exactly,” said Skye. “Now go.”

With a light push from her friend, Jemma’s feet moved forward at a slow pace. A part of her mind hoped he would pass by while she was still walking towards him, and thus miss the opportunity. But his steps were slow, too, almost as if they were subconsciously planning to collide perfectly with her trajectory. Her heart was beating faster than the rhythm of her footsteps, though she couldn’t entirely say why.

She was nearly right in front of him when he looked up from his conversation and froze. His expression was a blank frown, unreadable to Jemma. Looking at him this close, she noticed that his hair, which was somewhat unruly mess of curls the year before, had been cut and trimmed so that it layer smoother. It looked nice.

“Fitz,” she said, smiling as sweetly a she could muster through her uneasiness. He made no response. She adjusted her footing in an attempt to stand straighter than she already had been. “How have you been this year? Was your summer nice?”

Fitz’s companion responded before he did. “I’ll just get going,” he said, giving Fitz a friendly pat on the back. As he past Simmons, he added. “Good to see you again, Jemma.” She greeted him with a smile in turn, trying to think of his name. How did he seem to know hers when he wasn’t familiar to her?

When she turned back to Fitz, he was watching after his friend. She could have sworn there was a hint of alarm in his expression. She tried to convince herself that it was just her imagination. Indeed, when he looked back to her, the expression had dissipated to a look of almost apathy.

“Hey, Jemma,” he said coolly. She accepted it as an invitation to continue conversing.

“How are classes going for you? Do you think you’ll be ready for you O.W.L.s?” She turned the direction he was heading, hoping that maybe they would walk together. Perhaps if they were moving, she would feel less like people were staring at them.

“Yeah, I think so,” he answered, walking beside her. He took this as an opportunity to look ahead, though she kept her eyes on him.

“Okay, I’m not going to beat around the bush anymore,” she said. Her eyes were on him and her feet stood still. He stopped as well, but didn’t keep his eyes on her for long. “I need your help.”

Finally, his eyes met hers and locked. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making them move subtly upwards. “You need my help?”

“Yes.”

“The great Jemma Simmons needs my help?”

“I’m not that great, and yes.”

He looked at her, his expression serious and considering. She took at as an opportunity to continue her request. “It’s the Vanishing Spell. I can’t seem to get my head around it, though I’m certain I’m using the proper technique. I know I can’t pay you anything, but maybe we could do an exchange of sorts? My Wit-Sharpening potion is particularly good, as is my Stunning Charm.”

The smile stayed on her face as he looked at her for what Jemma considered an unusually long time. Within this time, she had an opportunity in her mind to admire the cut of his hair once more, notice that the dark gray of his sweater suited his complexion, and then wonder if it did the same for her. She self-consciously adjusted her sweater and smoothed over her blue-striped tie, hoping it was laying more complimentary now.

Once he decided to answer, he spoke quickly: “Deal. Meet me tomorrow at 3, in the court yard by the clocktower.”

“Great,” she said. Her smile suddenly felt more genuine on her face. “I will see you there.” She quickly turned, walking smoothly through the crowded hall.

***

The courtyard had only a couple of groups hanging around, one by the pear tree, and another by the fountain. In a rather crowded castle, it was one of the few areas where one might find some privacy. That’s why Fitz chose it. He knew it would be more secluded, and perhaps they could practice alone somewhere inside the clock - that is, if she showed.

Leaning coolly against the base of the tower, he studied the pear he had plucked from the tree earlier. It was a little too ripe, and his fingers left impressions in its skin. Still, he kept turning it in his hands, pressing a little harder and softer at various points. It wasn’t long before the fruit no longer had a smoothed curved figure, but resembled something more like an over packed sack of marbles.

He looked up at the clock to check the time, then turned back to the pear. She’s late, he thought. She’s never late. Though they never spoke, he knew she was very punctual. By the time he arrived to any class, she would already be sitting there, her quill and parchment neatly on her desk, ready to take any note she needed. She was never near a tardy, nor was she ever unprepared. So he knew, in his head and in his heart, that she had changed her mind.

Folding his arms across his chest, he gave one more look around for her. The group by the fountain were starting to disperse. The crowd by the tree had become only two people, a Durmstrang boy leaning towards the tree - and the girl who rested her back against it. None of them were Jemma.

He pushed himself away from the stone of the tower and turned to walk away. He had only taken a few steps when she appeared right in front of him, as if she had apparated. Startled, he froze where he stood, staring at her as she spoke.

“So sorry… I’m late,” she said through gasps, trying to catch her breath. “The stairs… they changed to this… this weird part of the castle… and there was no way to get back down.”

She stopped to fully catch her breath, wiping some hair from her face. The tight ponytail she normally wore was messy. A bit of frizz formed a halo around her head, while some spare strands framed her face. She pushed the strands behind her ear, but most of them fell back in front of her again. A light breeze pushed the hair across her face on one side and away on the other. He wanted to reach out and tuck it behind her ear himself as an excuse to stroke her cheek, but knew she wouldn’t like that. Once her breath was collected, she smiled at him, and he felt himself both melting and freezing up on the spot at the same time.

“Yeah, they can do that, can’t they?” He lightly shook his head. The words were coming out jumbled. That was the last thing he wanted. “Come on. I know where we should practice.”

The bells of the clock were two floors higher. While the corridor lead to other places in the castle, it was rarely occupied during certain times of the day. Just as Fitz had predicted, there was no one around there. Even when the clock wasn’t striking for the hour, there was a constant noise that deterred students from lingering. The sound didn’t bother Fitz, and he was hoping that it wouldn’t be a nuisance to Jemma, either.

“We should be able to practice alone here,” he said after checking that it was clear. “That way you won’t embarrass yourself in front of anyone.”

She let out an offended sound, but he saw that she was also still smiling a little, and knew she had found it funny. He allowed himself to relax a little.

“I suppose,” she started, examining the bells, “that as long as we’re not here at the strike of the hour, we should be fine.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” He felt sure. “Now,” he placed the pear in front of her, “let’s start Vanishing.”

That was when the trouble started. What he taught apparently went “off book,” and she voiced her concerns that it would not get her an Outstanding that she needed. Naturally, he argued that it should, and might at least get her in the right direction to be able to successfully cast the Vanishing Spell properly. (He also insisted that he was doing it right.) Next, she claimed the noise of the bells made it difficult to concentrate, and blamed that on why the pear hadn’t disappeared, but had only developed two small (though immobile) legs. By the time they parted, Jemma’s skills hadn’t improved. Fitz walked off in a direction that he didn’t actually have to go so that they wouldn’t have to awkwardly walk away together.

If it was possible to really kick yourself, Fitz would have been doing it. Instead, he walked all the way to the Gryffindor common room. His head hung down the entire time, and he did not even look up as he walked to his dormitory. The bed creaked lightly as he dropped himself onto it, carelessly sprawled over its covers. Blankets pressed against his face, and for the moment he thought he might not care if it accidentally smothered him.

“Things went well, I take it?”

The familiar voice wasn’t entirely welcome to Fitz ears, but he still rolled over in response. There stood Mack, towering over the bed. He was always taller than Fitz, but from this angle he looked impossibly large. Though he would never admit it, Fitz was a little bit intimidated by his friend.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Mack.” He attempted to keep his voice blank, but his frustrated disappointment seeped through. Mack shrugged in response and sat on his own bed.

“Okay,” he conceded. “I thought you might want to figure out where you went wrong.”

“But I didn’t go wrong.” Fitz had lifted his head up to look at Mack, emphasizing his point. “It’s not on me that she’s an impossible student.”

“Maybe it was just bad timing,” Mack argued. “Maybe something else had gone wrong that made her in a bad mood.”

Fitz remembered her story about the stairs. “Maybe.”

“Are you going to try meeting with her again?”

With a deep sigh, Fitz rolled back over, allowing the covers to consume him once more. “What’s the point?” he said, muffled by the blankets and letting the disappointment envelop him.

***

Jemma knew that it hadn’t gone as planned, and that, ultimately, that was worse for her. She was the one who needed teaching, after all, and Fitz was simply doing this out of the goodness of his heart. But the tones of the bells had begun to nag at her, somehow feeling like they were mocking her as her attempts failed again and again. She had left upset, but, before reaching her dorm, had calmed down a little. The idea of reaching the dorms was abandon, and instead she paced the halls, looking for a better location for their lessons. Perhaps if she found one, it would make amends for her fussy behavior.

No one seemed to notice or care that Jemma was pacing. There had actually only been a few people out and about as no classes were occurring in that hallway at the time. One boy, a fellow Ravenclaw named Eddie Carmichael, had been the only one to acknowledge Jemma as she paced.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” she answered as friendly as possible without being overwhelming. And that was that.

Her pace maintained a steady rhythm and, she realized, a stable pattern. She walked the same areas again and again, knowing that somewhere among those corridors, being closer to vacant themselves, would find the location she sought. But which one? She paced and paced – and then stopped. Like magic, an idea appeared suddenly right in front of her. She knew exactly where they would go next time.

***

Fitz didn’t know what she had in mind when she approached him again. But she was both apologetic and so eager to make it up to him that he didn’t stay mad for any amount of time. Soon, they were both walking through the corridors. Then back through one hall. Then back again. He stopped.

“We’re going in circles,” he said.

“Fitz,” she said pleading. “Trust me.”

She reached for his hand to urge him to keep walking with her. The touch was gentle, delicate, like she was use to being careful. The smoothness of her fingers stroked across his palm as she found her grip. The feeling was so welcoming and shocking at the same time that he almost gasped. His own heart seemed to be rising a little, or pounding a little harder, in his chest. But she didn’t seem to notice, and as she pulled at his hand, he found his feet willingly following.

Jemma must have been leading them correctly, for they arrived at a door he hadn’t seen before. She paused, glancing at him excitedly before turning the handle and leading the way in. When he entered in after her, he found a small, intimate classroom. It was spacious on one side with a long table (perhaps where the teacher would stand and give examples), while the other side, also fairly spacious, held two large desks. Many snails moved along the long table at what seemed to be the front of the room, as if they were already waiting to be Vanished.

“Oh, this is perfect,” he said, taking in the room. He looked at her, and saw her beaming, proud of her discovery. Proud of his pleasure. “No one is gonna be using this?”

“It’s not likely.”

“How did you find it?”

“With a little knowledge and a lot of luck,” she answered. “That’s what you need to find the Room of Requirement.”

***

All of the snails were gone. Jemma had successfully made each of them vanish with the guidance of Fitz. She had allowed herself listen to what he said, and, once she did, it clicked. He made sense to her, and thus so did his teachings.

“How did you get so good at this?” she wondered to him. “I mean, I know I’m becoming equally as capable, but that’s only with your help.”

They were sitting at the desks together. The desks had been pulled closer to each other (so that they could work together better), and now their shoes were pressed against each other. Jemma looked at him, feeling his closeness, and welcomed it fully. Something even urged Jemma to move closer, as if making out the details of his face even clearer would somehow put her wonder to rest. She held her ground where she sat.

“How do you get good at everything, Jemma?” he asked sincerely.

She thought about it. “Study, I practice. You’re good at a lot of things, too, Fitz.”

“But not like you,” he admitted. “So I focused my study on Transfiguration. I figured being good at that might be useful, since I want to become an Animagus.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really?” she said, utterly fascinated. In all of her studies, she never considered using her skills to transform into an animal. She didn’t expect it of anyone she knew, either. Yet here he was, surprising her. The process to become one was complex, she knew, and seeing someone work through the process intrigued her completely.

“Yeah,” he said coolly. “Thought it might be a fun trait to have.”

“What would you become?” Her eyes were fixed on him.

“Well, you can’t exactly choose your form, but if I could, I would probably be a –“

“-monkey.” They said in unison. She moved a little bit closer, until she could feel their knees touching.

***

“Fitz said that even some of the Gryffindors aren’t exactly supportive of Harry Potter in this competition.” As Skye, Cho and Jemma settled into their seats for the first task, Jemma found herself talking incessantly. “Of course, I told him that wasn’t entirely fair, because I doubt he could have put his name in himself, and it had to have been someone else playing a rather cruel prank. He had some interesting points on the matter, though. You’ll have to hear it when he gets here.”

“Wait,” Skye interrupted. “Fitz is joining us now?”

“Yeah,” Simmons said hesitantly. “I thought that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Nope, not a problem at all.”

Skye was being hard for Jemma to read again, so she leaned past her to talk to their other friend.

“How are you doing, Cho?”

She smiled weakly and held up a book. “I’m keeping myself distracted so I don’t have to think about it before it starts.” Simmons smiled encouragingly.

“Is there anymore room for us?” Jemma heard from her other side. Her head instantly turned to see both Fitz and Mack standing there, hoping to squeeze in with them.

“Of course,” she said, a smile naturally forming on her face.

“Yeah,” added Skye as she already began to scoot down. “Hi, Fitz. Mack.”

“It’s Skye, right?” greeted Mack.

Those two were still conversing, joining the surrounding murmur as Fitz settled down next to Simmons. “Did you hear that there’s gonna be dragons?” He said. “Should be pretty interesting.”

“I’ve always wanted to see a dragon.” She said, her bright eyes not leaving him.

“Well, now I think you’ll get to see four.”

Their shoulders touched this time, their arms brushing against each other as they moved. She wasn’t even aware that there was space between her and Skye on her other side.

***

The Yule Ball was coming up. Fitz wasn’t much of a dancer, but his parents had already sent the dress robes, so he felt like he had to attend. Fortunately, everyone had been given lessons so he had at least learned something in the way of moves. But none of that would matter if he couldn’t find a date.

Of course she had come to his mind. In his mind, she naturally moved with such grace that dancing would be easy for her, and perhaps that were make her a better partner for him. It was foolish, though, he thought, to believe she didn’t already have a date, if not several.

“Why not just ask her if she has a date?” Mack had suggested.

“She’ll know why I’m asking,” he protested. “Why don’t you ask Skye? You two have been talking.”

“Ask Skye?” he said, surprised. “I already have a date. I think Skye does, too.”

“No,” Fitz explained, “I meant ask Skye if Jemma has a date.”

“I’m not doing this for you.” His hands were in the air, as if Mack was refraining from touching the issue. “You’ve at least got to ask Skye yourself.”

Fitz thought about it again. “I guess I’ll go talk to Jemma.”

“Atta boy.” Mack patted Fitz on the back. “Go get on that. I’ll catch up to you later.”

Mack headed off down towards potions while Fitz’s mind wandered to Jemma. They had met up six times for private lessons by now, and had spent plenty of time outside of these lessons together. Though they were separated into their respective houses at meals, there was always a wave to one another across the tables, usually accompanied by some made up sign language to express their feelings on the meal they were about to eat. They sat together in classes when they could. In the halls, they joined each other’s side to head to every class (which, Fitz found, made him much earlier for every class). In fact, the only reason he hadn’t been with her already was because he hadn’t seen her yet that day.

As Fitz continued walking without his friend, he could hear the familiar tones of Simmons’s voice.

“It’s not that we wouldn’t have fun going to the ball together, Eddie, but I can’t.” She was nervous, uncomfortable. Fitz could hear it. He turned the corner and saw her. Jemma’s back was against the wall, her books held up as a defensive shield between her and a Ravenclaw boy who was too close to her for Fitz’s liking (and, it seemed, for Jemma’s, too).

“Aww, why can’t you?” He asked. He leaned a hand against the wall next to her face. She seemed to instinctively tilt her head away from it.

“Oh, you know,” she said, clearly still trying to sound nice as her eyes darted around the area, looking for an excuse. “I can’t because… you know…”

Fitz could hear his heart beating, its pace increasing. Not from anger from this guy clearly crossing a boundary, but with the courage that placed him in Gryffindor. He strode towards her in false confidence and slid next to her along the wall.

“Because she’s going with me.” He stared, challenging the other man.

Eddie pulled his hand away and backed off instantly. “Sorry, Jemma,” he said, not making eye contact with Fitz. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright,” she said smiling politely. Fitz felt her lock her arm around his before turning to face him. “Shall we go discuss our ball plans?”

***

It wasn’t a part of Jemma’s plan to go to a dance with Fitz. But, as she told Skye many times, she couldn’t think of a more interesting male partner to spend an evening with. Besides, it gave her an opportunity to dress nicer than normal, even if her companion wouldn’t necessarily appreciate it.

Even though it was just Fitz, there was something that made her nervous. Butterflies were awakening, and she could feel their wings starting to flap. She felt a rush, as if something about tonight was to be truly magical.

It probably had something to do with the dress, she concluded. It was a blue gown that reached the floor and had sparkling silver accents. It twirled beautifully when she spun, which was perhaps her favorite thing about it. The accents of the dress matched her shimmering shoes and silver hand bag. Her earrings and necklace glimmered like starlight, and she wore a matching brooch clip in her hair that pushed all of her hair to one side of her face. It curled and curved in a style that Skye had suggested for her. She had loved it, and it made her feel beautiful, although possibly out of place.

The butterflies moved more frantically as she made her way to where everyone was gathering for the ball. She tried to subtly hold her stomach as she calmed her breathing. She took slow, steady steps down the stairs in her less-than-comfortable heels, keeping an eye out for Fitz. She scanned the room until she saw him, and couldn’t help but smile.

Fitz looked handsome. His dress robes fit him well, looking much like a nice suit or tux that a muggle might wear. The bowtie near his neck was straight and professional. His hair was somehow smoothed even more, giving him a sleek, clean appearance. There was something about his eyes as they landed on her (though they were likely not truly altered, even by magic) that made him look better than he ever had.

“Fitz,” she said in awe.

“You look amazing,” he said before she could continue, then added, “we both look amazing, don’t we?”

She nodded, not wanting to look away from the transformed friend beside her.

They watched as the champions danced. They spoke as quietly as they could (while still hearing each other) about the couples, and the reasoning behind why some sets were better suited for the techniques of the dance. (They complimented Cho and Cedric in particular, on the compatibility of their skills and heights.) The backs of their hands brushed against each other, almost as if his was moving closer to hers. The butterflies were starting up again with each touch, but she never pulled away.

As soon as other couples moved on to the dance floor, Simmons felt his hand reach out for hers, gently tugging it towards an open space for dancing. She didn’t protest, didn’t fight, but for a brief moment found herself holding her breath.

Then they started dancing. He wasn’t the smoothest leader at first, and this caused her to smile. She almost laughed at their first stumble, particularly amused that he played it off like nothing had gone wrong. In some ways, it hadn’t: This felt right to Jemma. Their compatibility aligned, making even their mistakes feel smooth. And as they both found the rhythm together, their moves became perfectly synchronized.

They didn’t need to speak. She could follow his lead wordlessly, knowing how he moved and feeling the same movement inherently. As they touched - their hands held together, his other hand on her waist, hers on his shoulder – they felt like connections to another part of her she never knew she had. She let the moment happen silently, looking into his eyes and knowing that he, too, was keeping quiet to hold on to the moment.

As the ball progressed into more of a Weird Sisters concert, they decided to sit, their whole sides touching. He hadn’t let go of her hand from the dancing, and she didn’t object.

“Fitz,” she said softly. Her head lowered, finding his shoulder, and resting there.

“Yeah?” He said, equally as soft. She wasn’t sure how they were hearing each other.

“Thanks for asking me to this.”

“I couldn’t think of asking anyone else. Jemma, I,” he hesitated. She thought her heart had possibly skipped a beat in the moment he had paused.

“Fitz,” she said, cautiously. “What is it?”

“You mean a lot to me,” he finished.

She gave his hand a squeeze. “You mean a lot to me, too. You’re such a good friend.”

Jemma felt him breathe deeply, and knew it wasn’t from the contentment she had felt a moment earlier, but rather some kind of disappointment. The reaction confused her. She lifted her head from him and breathed deeply as well, hoping that it was just her imagination. She wanted to remember this night as the good it had just been, not whatever disappointment it was becoming. 

***

Though she and Fitz still retained their lessons, and were still just as close in her eyes, Jemma knew something was off. She didn’t dare say it out loud, but felt that there were words he had kept silent. Words that her heart knew he was feeling, even if it didn’t reciprocate them.

“Do you think I’ve lead Fitz on in some way?” She decided to voice her concern to Skye. They were sitting in the bleachers, staring out at the maze that was the third task for the Triwizard Champions. Cedric was tied for the lead, which made Cho invested. She stared at the maze as if she could see what was happening inside. But for Simmons, it was simply a maze of bushes, too tall to see much beneath its shrubbery. She looked forward to seeing who returned as crowning champion, but, until then, she used the time as others had: To talk.

“What? No,” answered Skye. “What makes you think that?”

“I just feel like he thinks we may be something… well, more than we are.”

“And what are you, exactly?” Skye’s eyebrows were raised.

“We’re friends,” Jemma explained. “Just friends. I mean, yes, he is the only guy I know to keep up with me academically, and dancing with him at the ball was enjoyable, but those things are only so nice because he’s become such a good friend. I don’t think there’s some greater connection there. But I fear he thinks there is.”

As Jemma wrinkled her face in guilt and distress, Skye simply stared at her, eyebrows still raised. “You don’t feel any particular attachment to him?” She asked after a moment.

“Well, when you say it like that-“

A red flare shot into the sky from the maze. The three girls stared out into the darkness, watching crimson light fill the sky.

“You don’t think that was..?”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Cho,” Skye said, reassuring.

“He’s by far the most capable in there,” Jemma comforted. “I highly doubt he would be the first to send up a red flare.”

“You’re right,” said Cho. She gazed back out into the maze. “What do you think they’ve put in there?”

Jemma thought a moment. “Well, given the nature of the previous task-“ (they had taken Cho as something Cedric cared about most that he had to rescue, a flattering and frightening move) “- I think it may be something personal to them again, but not something they have to save, but rather, have to conquer.”

They could see a portion of the tall bushes moving, the maze shifting before their eyes. Skye spoke as she watched ahead of her: “That would be terrifying. I don’t know that I’d make it if they made it that personal.”

“Oh, I know I wouldn’t,” said Jemma. “Which is why I wouldn’t have signed up, even if I could.”

“I think I could,” added Cho. “I think, if I were a seven year, I could do it.”

“I applaud your confidence,” Jemma said. Her mind was assessing every worst scenario that could be in that maze, analyzing each option for what she could do to overcome it.

“Do you think Fitz could make it?” Skye brought him up again. Simmons laughed and said, “I don’t think he could, but he would undoubtedly sign up to try.” She could imagine him facing off against a dragon, swimming through the lake, and heading off into the unknown of this maze. She knew well the look of determination he’d have when he was being particularly brave or hiding his nerves. The thought amused her.

“You know,” Skye said, “you only smile like that when you’re talking about him.”

Jemma acted appalled, feeling blood rushing to her cheeks. “Like what? We don’t have that kind of-“

“You mean to tell me that he hasn’t asked you out yet?” Cho said, for once fully focusing on the conversation at hand.

Simmons was certain her face was as bright as a bad sunburn, but she vocally continued her protest. “I am telling you, we’re just not like that. Though I am really grateful for his help. I think I’m going to get the Outstanding that I wanted.”

Cho shrugged it off and accepted Jemma’s denial. She knew from the look Skye’s face that she didn’t.

What happened next was both a blur and full of vivid images in Jemma’s mind. There, outside of the maze, appeared Harry Potter. He had the cup in his hand. Next to him, Cedric’s pale face stared blankly up into the stars, the person behind the eyes completely gone. A blank slate of a former friend. He was gone. Never dancing with Cho, never saving her, never being with her or any of his friends. He was erased from his future moments, things that would never get to come to be.

Did she look at Cho? She didn’t remember seeing Cho, but the sound of her sobbing echoed in her ears the remainder of that night. Her tears would fill the dorm room for the rest of the school year, and Jemma’s heart would ache in pain for her friend’s loss. For her own loss.

All she knew through the sound of weeping, through the sight of an empty vessel that was once her fellow student, was that she needed to find Fitz. As they ushered them out of the seats, urging them all into the castle and to their rooms, she broke ranks.

She pictured it again: Fitz, entering the first task and retrieving the egg. Fitz, undoubtedly rescuing her from the bottom of the lake. Fitz, running into the dark labyrinth. And Fitz, reappearing with Harry Potter. Fitz, lifeless and empty. She saw him disappearing from her past – the dance, the lessons, and every little touch – and pictured never having those things in her future. Her feet rushed her through the crowd, looking for him.

He was there, with Mack by his side, walking with a group of Gryffindors. And in a moment, she was there, too, her arms wrapped around the entirety of him, preventing him from hugging at first. She slid her arms up to his neck and buried her face into his chest. Her tears dampened the front of his sweater, but neither of them seemed to care. Soon his arms were around her, where they were always suppose to be.

She knew what he felt, and, now, she understood. They were more than she had expected. More than any term could accurately convey. Any word she tried didn’t fit, for it never said enough.

“Fitz,” she said as she caught her breath between her tears. “I never want to lose you.”

He pulled her away, looking firmly into her eyes. “Jemma,” he said, “You’re never gonna lose me. Wherever you go, I don’t want to be anywhere but beside you.”

***

Two years later, Fitz was sitting beside the lake after taking his last ever Hogwarts exam. He was reflecting on all that he had been through, and how much he would miss from his years at school: The castle, the feasts, his professors… The friends he had made, probably most of all.

“Hey,” he heard a familiar voice say. He turned around to see Jemma, her hair lightly falling out of her ponytail. She had just finished taking her last exam as well, and she sat next to Fitz with a contented smile. “Well, looks like this part of our lives is finally over.”

“Yeah,” Fitz agreed.

“Next up, the Ministry!” She said with a bright smile. Then she hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. “That is, assuming we both manage to get jobs there…” Though they hadn’t exactly discussed it, they had both independently decided that they wanted to get jobs as close together as possible. After all, these last two years together had been the best they had ever known. They weren’t about to end it now.

Fitz laughed. “Jemma! Stop your worrying. The exams are over! It’s time to relax for a little.” He rubbed her back a moment, and then stopped. “Although you didn’t tell me how your last exam went. Another Outstanding, do you reckon?”

Jemma smiled. “Of course,” she said, turning toward him. “It was Transfiguration. I happen to have the world’s best tutor in that subject.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He looked at her, and he knew: Meeting her was the most magical thing that had happened to him at Hogwarts.


End file.
